


Sleepover

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: Robin finds Shanker and Strike the morning after a sleepover of sorts.*Just a little drabble to hopefully fulfill ChillyHollow’s prompt.*





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [ChillyHollow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyHollow/pseuds/ChillyHollow) in the [StrikeFicExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeFicExchange) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Stand By Your Man — because Shanker appears to be the sort of guy who ends up needing a bit of support whether it is bail money, patching up after a fight, or just a place to safely crash. This can be from Alyssa, Cormoran, Leda, take it wherever you wish. You are the author, after all.
> 
> This is my first ever story to fulfill a prompt! (So hopefully I’ve done it right). I hope everyone, especially ChillyHollow, enjoys this little drabble.

Robin, with a paper bag of pastries clutched in one hand and a bunch of letters in the other, pushed the unlocked office door open with a shove of her foot. She paused halfway to her desk and frowned. There, cuddled up under a blanket and with a pillow held tightly to his chest, was Shanker sprawled across the couch fast asleep. Strike was in a similar state, his mouth open slightly as huffs of air escaped in time with his falling chest. He was on the camp bed, nestled between the couch and Robin’s desk, under a scratchy green blanket and with an arm thrown over the side to graze the floor and his good leg bent at the knee with his bare foot on the floor. Robin’s eyes trailed down his body and winced at how uncomfortable he looked. She looked around the floor expecting to find the remnants of a heavy night’s drinking but instead just saw two mugs, a full ashtray and Strike’s prosthetic propped at the end of the camp bed with his trousers pooled around it.

 

“Alrigh’ Robin?” Shanker’s whisper caused Robin to jump. He’d looked deeply asleep only seconds ago.

 

“Admirin’ the view?” He said, glancing pointedly at Strike with a cheeky grin. Robin felt her cheeks blush and turned to throw the post and paper bag on her desk.

 

“What are you-“

 

“BUNSEN!” Shanker’s bellow interrupted Robin.

 

Strike came awake with a start, sitting up and grabbing the desk beside him with a flailing hand and looking blearily around the room.

 

“Mornin’ sunshine.” Shanker said as he threw his legs over the side of the couch and looked down as the leather farted.

 

Strike just groaned and then lay back down and ran a hand over his face. He frowned when he spotted Robin standing at the bottom of his camp bed.

 

“What are you doing here?” He asked with furrowed brows.

 

“Morning to you too.” Robin said with a smile.

 

“Don’t take it personal Robin, ‘e’s never been a mornin’ person.” Shanker supplied with a yawn.

 

“Shut it you.” Strike said as he sat up gingerly and grabbed his prosthetic from the end of the bed.

 

“Charmin’”

 

“Aren’t you two a little old for a sleepover?” Robin asked as she popped the kettle on.

 

“Not my choice believe me.” Strike grumbled.

 

“You could ‘ave gone to bed Bunsen.”

 

“And leave you alone in here to root through case files trying to find people you could blackmail. I don’t think so.”

 

“That’s slander that is, tell ‘im Robin.”

 

Robin just smiled and held her hands up in surrender.

 

“Why didn’t you both just sleep upstairs?” She asked.

 

“Because he’d steal what little I own-“

 

“Bunsen, what do you take me for?”

 

“An opportunist.” Strike said with a raised eyebrow and Robin couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“That’s probably fair.” Shanker said, turning to smile at Robin with a glinting gold tooth.

 

“So why are you two having a sleepover?” Robin asked as she threw teabags into three mugs. Strike stared pointedly at Shanker who looked away sheepishly.

 

“I might ‘ave mistaken a big fish for a bloated trout.” He replied and Robin narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“It’ll all blow over. Just needed a place to hide out in and Bunsen here,” Shanker reached out and slapped Strike on the knee, “‘e was my knight in shinin’ armour.”

 

“Mm.” Strike replied and turned to Robin with a long-suffering look.

 

“Got ‘is mum’s heart, ‘e does.” Shanker said as he stood and stretched.

 

Robin grabbed milk from the fridge as the tea brewed and averted her eyes as Strike finished attaching his prosthetic, stood and pulled his trousers up. Shanker was thankfully fully dressed, green jacket and all.

 

Shanker appeared behind her with the empty mugs from the floor, depositing them in the sink and then grabbing two mugs of tea with a warm thanks as Robin topped them up with milk. He walked back over to Strike, who had begun to disassemble the camp bed, and passed him his mug of tea.

 

“So what you two up to today then?” Shanker asked. Robin looked to Strike who just raised an eyebrow and gave Shanker a wry grin.

 

“Nothing you need to know about.” Strike warned before taking a gulp of tea.

 

“Fine.” Shanker muttered. He put his mug down on Robin’s desk and took over Strike’s work of taking the camp bed apart. Strike walked over to Robin who was leaning against the counter in the kitchenette.

 

“Sorry about this.”

 

“That’s alright.” Robin replied with a smile, noticing how soft Strike’s eyes looked as they were still full of a sleepy haze.

 

“I bought some pastries on the way in.” She said, nodding towards the bag on her desk.

 

“You’re an angel.” Strike said and walked over to her desk to peer into the sweet smelling bag.

 

“Just gonna have a piss Bunsen.” Shanker said as he disappeared out the door. Strike looked at Robin with a smile as he stuffed a pastry in his mouth and then his face dropped as he looked towards the door and back at her. Robin felt a smile break out in anticipation.

 

“Sh’nk’r.” Strike garbled around the pastry in his mouth and took off after Shanker as Robin heard light footsteps quickly ascend the stairs up to Strike’s flat.

 

“Boys.” Robin said to herself as she grabbed a pastry, sat on her desk and listened to the footsteps above.


End file.
